


Shallow

by theperksofbeingsera



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anders is an idiot, Anger, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Chantry explosion, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fenris Needs a Hug, Friendship/Love, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Idiots in Love, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Love, Mage-Templar War, Mages (Dragon Age), Moving On, POV Fenris (Dragon Age), Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Purple Hawke, Sad Ending, Templars (Dragon Age), The Chantry (Dragon Age), Tragedy, past fenris/hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperksofbeingsera/pseuds/theperksofbeingsera
Summary: “The Champion has fallen!” someone yelled. The world slowed down around him as he sprinted toward her, begging the Maker or whatever false gods that she was safe. Kirkwall was a dead man’s city. Ash rained from the sky, and all around him people were fleeing for safety, but none of that mattered.





	Shallow

“Where is Hawke?” Fenris shouted amidst the chaos of the Chantry explosion, eyes frantically searching his surroundings. She was just here. How did he not notice that she ran off?

“The Champion has fallen!” someone yelled. The world slowed down around him as he sprinted toward her, begging the Maker or whatever false gods that she was safe. Kirkwall was a dead man’s city. Ash rained from the sky, and all around him people were fleeing for safety, but none of that mattered.

“Where is she!?” He cried, voice strangling from the fumes.  

“Here!” The same voice replied, leading him to the steps of the Chantry. Through the smoke, he could see a motionless figure lying at the bottom.  An elf leaned over her, applying a strip of their torn clothing to stop the bleeding. He dropped the greatsword and rushed to her side, noting how pale she appeared, and the shallowness of her breaths. How many times had he relished watching his victims die slow and painfully? Only to now feel ashamed he couldn’t bring himself to save her from that. Her eyes fluttered open and closed. A forced smile crept up the corners of her lips as her eyes flickered over his own, blood dripping from her open mouth. That was not a good sign. He had witnessed too many deaths, been the harbinger of their fates. Hawke was dying.  “I c-can’t stop the bleeding!” The hysterical elf cried, and he took over, applying pressure to the wound, eyes wandering her limp body.

“Grab the mage!” He snapped, and the woman scampered away, calling for a mage to help the Champion. That was expected, he thought, as he didn’t tell her _who_ to grab. Too many thoughts scrambled in his head and none of them were coherent. All he could think about was Hawke. Her lips, her touch. Even her horrible attempts at humor to deflect.

Shrapnel from the explosion penetrated her chest and he couldn’t discern how deep it was lodged. If he tried to pull it out, he could make matters so much worse. _Please be okay, Hawke. I love you. I’m sorry I left, I should never have left you._ Commotion and footsteps approached behind him, and he heard Varric swear, followed by _the_ mage flocking to her side. “Fix her, _mage_ , or I shall kill you where you stand.” He snarled. Anders shooed away his futile attempt to stop the bleeding. The woman in front of him could not die.

“Maker, Hawke…” Anders muttered as he prodded the laceration.

“What are you doing? You’re making it worse!”

“I… I can’t.” Anders’ voice cracked, slumping his shoulders in defeat. “It’s too close to her heart. I would need to pull it out before I could heal her, and that would surely kill her.”

The blood drained from Fenris’ face, quickly replaced with seething anger as he grabbed the mage by the collar and slammed him into the nearest wall. “This is _your_ fault, mage. You and your bloody need to start a war!”

Anders’ eyes began to glow, but Fenris did not waver. The demon would not scare him. Fenris would instill the fear of the Maker into him, whether he believed or not.

“Let go of me, elf.” Justice demanded. “The Champion will be a martyr. Another reason the mages cannot submit.”

“Hey, you two idiots!” Varric intervened, readying Bianca. “While you bicker, Hawke _is_ dying.”

Fenris released his grip on Anders and backed away. The dwarf was right. In one long stride, he kneeled by her side again, pushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. Her electric blue eyes were bloodshot. His arms curled underneath her body and drew her to him, rocking ever so gently.

“Fenris…” The raven-haired beauty slurred. Her eyes found his and did not falter. “Will you forgive me?” she asked, breath uneven. Forgive her? What in the world was she talking about?

“There is no reason for you to ask of my forgiveness. If anything, I should be begging for yours.”

“Maker, Fenris,” she pleaded, clasping her hand weakly around his, and gripped it tight. “Give a dying girl her last wish.”

His lips found her knuckles and he shakily kissed them. She was dying and there was nothing they could do to save her. He would _kill_ Anders for this.“As you say, Hawke. I forgive you.”

“…your ass over there and say goodbye!” He heard Varric bellow, followed by the click of Bianca as he undoubtedly knew she was being aimed at Anders. Hawke was, after all, his. Look where being his got her. White hot rage blinded the periphery of his vision, and it took everything in his power to not rip the mage’s heart out, but he collected himself as best he could. Not in front of her.

“I know you want to, but don’t. That’s not him. It’s that damned –” She was interrupted by a cough and spatter of blood that covered their hands, but he did not recoil. He knew what she asked and doesn’t think he can do it. For killing her. The only light in this forsaken world. “Promise me, Fenris.” He opens his mouth to respond, but a hand rests on his shoulder and he knows this is goodbye. There would be no more conversations. No more drinking wine until she passed out in his arms in front of the roaring fire. The distinct smell of lavender and sage mixed with sweat whenever she was near would never be again. Time would never suspend in the midst of battle as they fought in synchronicity. He pulled away from her hesitantly, but her hand remained an iron-grip on his. _Just like your grip on my heart._ Even dying, she was stubborn. Her pleading expression caused his stomach flip. How could he inspire such loyalty? But he was a weak man and he nodded his head. _For you, Hawke, I will try._

He stood by Varric’s side as they said goodbye, noting the tears in both of their eyes. That man was not worthy of her and by Varric’s expression, he knew it too. They all knew it and he wasn’t sure if he could keep his promise. He loved her too much to let her death go unavenged.


End file.
